


i'm such a fool for sacrifice

by bluu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Greek Mythology References, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Pining, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-15 16:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15416982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluu/pseuds/bluu
Summary: As if slowly suffocating on flowers from unrequited love wasn’t enough, an unrequited love for your soulmate turns the flowers to poison and changes a disease from treatable to fatal.On the day Iwaizumi turns eighteen, a soulmate mark is branded onto his skin. Unfortunately, it’s also the day he starts dying.





	i'm such a fool for sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> I explain this in the fic, but to preface:
> 
> 1\. There are soulmates in this universe, but not everyone gets one, and not everyone finds theirs. Finding your fated partner is often a matter of luck.  
> 2\. Hanahaki disease is an illness that only effects when someone has unrequited love for someone else, and it causes the victim to cough up flowers, eventually leading to suffocation until the victim gets their feelings returned or surgically removes the plant and feelings.
> 
> Big thanks to my beta reader [foggys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foggys/pseuds/foggys) as always, who witnessed me bang out 7.5k word fics in less than twenty-four hours twice this week. Tiitle is from Coming Down by Halsey, which is my personal Iwaoi anthem.

_June 9th_

For all intents and purposes, the day before Iwaizumi turned eighteen was a day like any other.

June brought sweltering heat and screeching cicadas, so when Oikawa texted him asking to bring over the half-eaten tub of mint chocolate ice cream, Iwaizumi had to sprint to his best friend’s house in order to prevent the frozen treat from melting. Though their houses were only a few blocks away from each other, it was still far enough to cause Iwaizumi to feel like he’s running laps in Hell.

Consequently, Iwaizumi showed up at Oikawa’s house drenched in sweat, silently cursing himself for prioritizing the integrity of the ice cream over his own sanity. The door opened and Oikawa — the asshole — laughed at him, taking the dessert from Iwaizumi and handing him a towel.

“Gross,” his best friend said, scrunching his nose as if in disgust.

They spent the afternoon sitting between two fans, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream straight from the container and watching cooking shows on Oikawa’s laptop. Iwaizumi was in the middle of scraping the sides of the tub when Oikawa suddenly spoke.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Sure.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he snorted, sticking another spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “You’ve never been enthusiastic about soulmates.”

Iwaizumi grunted. His parents weren’t soulmates and they had a happy marriage. Maybe they’ve never been as enamored with each other as a typical fated pair, or overly dramatic with their relationship as some of the stories he’s seen reported about on the news, but they worked and loved each other. By some erroneous algorithm of the universe, some people just never met their soulmate. In addition, some people didn’t even get marked. It was a total random game of chance. More often than not, these people tended to have perfectly normal lives, so Iwaizumi never saw why it was a big deal.

“I will never understand that,” Oikawa sighed, almost dreamily. “I hope my soulmate has nice legs. And long blonde hair. I want to be able to run my fingers through it.”

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi said, licking his spoon. “You have a month before you find out, anyway. Don’t be impatient.”

 

-

 

Despite everything, though, Iwaizumi laid wide awake on his bed in the minutes ticking down to midnight.

He supposed it was curiosity. No matter his disdain towards the idea and “importance” of soulmates, Iwaizumi was a bit interested to find out what his mark would be if he had one. After all, it would be on his body forever, so he at least wanted it to be a cool mark. Something badass. Or at the very least, something beautiful.

11:58.

He wondered where it would be. Iwaizumi hoped it wouldn’t be somewhere embarrassing, like his ass or his face. Hanamaki’s mark ended up being bold lettering right across his forehead. Which was pretty bad in of itself, but what the mark said was even worse: the word “nice,” blocked out in an impossibly dark font right on his skin. At least it was kind of small.

11:59.

Iwaizumi’s mind wandered off, thinking about the potential girl that his soulmate could be. He thought about the kind of women he had generally been interested in: milky skin, silky hair, slender legs. Slender curves, slender waist; toned but not too skinny. Beautiful, bright, vivacious.

He sighed.

12:00.

All of a sudden, Iwaizumi felt a rush of heat run through his body, coalescing at his wrist. The thin skin on his arm burned impossibly hot, and he watched entranced as what appeared to be liquid gold set into symbols on his skin. Iwaizumi inhaled sharply as the mark settled into some kind of script that he vaguely recognized to be Greek.

He stared down at it, unsure what to make of the foreign lettering right under the base of his palm. Iwaizumi sat up in bed, prepared to fetch his laptop to search up the meaning of the mark before he started coughing furiously. Something itched in his throat and his chest felt impossibly tight. He brought his hand to his mouth, wheezing a final cough and feeling something fly out of his throat and into his palm.

A petal, a brilliant purple, covered in saliva and blood.

Dread prickled at the base of Iwaizumi’s neck as he realized the implications of what just happened.

_What the fuck._

 

-

 

_June 10th_

What should have been a happy occasion quickly turned disastrous when Iwaizumi showed his mother the bloody petal in the morning. After a few moments of panic and crying on his mother's part, the two of them rushed over to the doctor, who took one look at the petal and grimaced.

“Hanahaki,” the doctor explained, “usually has a treatment that is next to completely effective. And usually it takes at least a month before symptoms get dangerous. Initially, the coughing is harmless, irritating at worst. Only after time do the flowers get larger, and the diaphragm and lungs become disabled by the foreign root system of the plant, which would eventually lead to suffocation. But provided no complications in the actual procedure itself, we can completely remove the plant from the body with surgery to over ninety-nine percent effectiveness.”

“Why is it bloody,” Iwaizumi's mother pleaded.

“I've heard rumors,” he continued, “but I've never seen a case myself. People aren’t usually this unlucky.” The doctor looked Iwaizumi square in the eye. “And you said you don't know who you're in love with?”

“No,” Iwaizumi admitted begrudgingly. “I have no idea.” He didn't talk to many girls; he has a few female friends but he couldn't figure out which one he had strong feelings for.

The doctor sighed heavily. “It's your soulmate. Which makes this all the more complicated, and frankly, deadly.

“As you know, not everyone has soulmates, and not everyone meets their soulmate. Normally in a situation without fated pairs involved, Hanahaki can be dealt with easily.” The doctor inhaled sharply, as if bracing himself. “But when Hanahaki manifests in someone who has unrequited feelings for their soulmate, the flower is poisonous, accelerating and increasing the fatality of the disease. And if we perform the surgery, you will die, as your body won't be able to handle the shock of the loss of a soulmate and entire regions of your brain will stop functioning entirely immediately upon removal.”

Iwaizumi’s mother sobbed.

“But how can I have unrequited feelings for someone I don't even know?”

“That's the thing,” the doctor said, giving Iwaizumi a sad look. “It probably _is_ someone you know. Have you investigated the meaning of your mark yet?”

Iwaizumi shook his head. He was too busy trying to figure out who he was in love with.

“Please do that immediately when you return home,” the doctor replied. “It’s your only chance of survival. We cannot surgically remove the plant; it will kill you. Your only hope is to find your soulmate and hopefully, have them return your feelings.”

“How long does he have to do that?” Iwaizumi's mother choked out.

“It depends on how fast the poison acts and how fast the disease spreads, but judging by the flower… ten days at most.” The doctor placed a hand on Iwaizumi's shoulder, aiming to comfort but only ended up making Iwaizumi feel worse. “I would look up both the meaning of the hyacinth and the mark in order for you to figure out who your soulmate is. And please, let me know as soon as possible if you need anything. I can refer you to support groups and excellent therapists if you would like.”

Iwaizumi looked down at his left hand, which held the petal. Right under his wrist bone was the beautiful golden script he was beginning to resent immensely.

“Happy birthday, Hajime,” the doctor whispered quietly, before leaving the room to Iwaizumi's dumbfounded silence and his mother's gentle weeping.

Unable to cope with the news of his impending death, Iwaizumi broke down crying with his mother.

 

-

 

(On his car ride home, his phone buzzed with birthday messages. One from Matsukawa: _“ditching school on your birthday iwaizumi?? how terrible!”_ Several from the volleyball team, all of which were some variation of _“Happy birthday, senpai!”_

One from Oikawa: _“happy birthday! what's the mark? let's research it so iwa-chan can finally get a girlfriend!”_

In the backseat, Iwaizumi heaved up two more petals. His mom cried harder and he stuffed the petals into his pocket, dread and realization dawning upon him like a bad nightmare.)

 

-

 

Wikipedia told him his mark came from an ancient Greek tale. The story of two lifelong friends, growing up and with each other, battling in a devastating war. Protecting each other, supporting each other, the soldier never far behind the beautiful and radiant warrior. Always tending to his wounds, always at his side, always devoted. Achilles and Patroclus: the tale of a bond so strong it moves to kill and to sacrifice.

 _φίλτατος,_  the gold sang at him, like the cry of a dying bird. _Philtatos. Beloved. The love between young lovers, lifelong friends. The kind of love that shakes mountains and wins wars._

Iwaizumi sucked in a shaky, painful breath, feeling the roots in his lungs grow and his chest lurch in a pain completely unrelated to the ache of flowers.

He discovered that the hyacinth was also connected with Greek myth, of Hyakinthos, a boy who loved the sun, who died at the hands of a god. Purple petals for grief, sincerity, jealousy, and sport. A flower for a boy so radiant he rivaled the gods; a boy so beautiful the sun loved him; a boy athletic and strong.

Iwaizumi spat out a few more petals, cupped his face in his hands and groaned in a mixture of hopelessness and frustration.

He had always joked that Oikawa would be the death of him, but Iwaizumi never thought that Oikawa would _literally cause him to die._

It made sense, Iwaizumi reasoned begrudgingly. He grew up with Oikawa. They spent their summers together watching senseless television and gorging on food. They spent their winters huddled under the kotatsu in the Iwaizumi home, legs intertwined for warmth. Once upon a time, Iwaizumi caught beetles and ladybugs only to let them go because they scared his best friend. They discovered volleyball together, and Iwaizumi shared countless afternoons with Oikawa, watching him practice and watching him grow, like the metamorphosis of a butterfly.

But Iwaizumi wasn’t gay. At least, he never thought he was. Sure, he and Oikawa have always been close, but he never thought of Oikawa in _that_ way. Before everything, Oikawa was his best friend, through thick and thin, through the wins and the losses, and through the happy times and the hard ones.

When did the feeling of friendship turn into that of love?

Maybe it was their loss to Karasuno, Iwaizumi thought, with Oikawa’s palm on his back like coming home, like reassurance and determination. Maybe it was that day in the gym of Kitagawa Daiichi. Maybe it was the day, so long ago, when a nine year old Oikawa barged into his house with a volleyball and demanded Iwaizumi to play with him. Maybe it was when they first met in preschool, maybe it’s —

always been there.

Oikawa, shining like a brilliant sun, with the smile of a warrior and the determination of a battle; the grace of a god in the way he moved, the power of an army in the way he laughed. And Iwaizumi himself always behind him, a soldier that protects and serves, but never stands on equal ground with.

Iwaizumi laughed mirthlessly, but it caught with a wheeze, mouth filling with the poison of a hyacinth.

 _People aren’t usually this unlucky,_ the doctor had said. Distantly, Iwaizumi wondered what he had done to deserve this.

 

-

 

(“Do you know who it is?” his mother asked him hesitantly.

“No,” Iwaizumi lied. “Not yet,” because he doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s in love with his straight best friend who’s been fucking girls left and right ever since he was fifteen, and that no matter what, he’ll never love Iwaizumi back.

He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably be dead by the end of the week.)

 

-

 

_June 11th_

Iwaizumi’s mother called into school asking for the week off, and called into her work sick. Iwaizumi knew that she wanted to maximize this last week with him, but watching his mother cry constantly at the sight of his sullen skin and tired eyes only made his heart ache even more. His father wasn’t much better; he had receded into complete silence, face belying anguish whenever Iwaizumi caught sight of his face. His mother brought cups of tea and bowls of soup to his room only to find them untouched and a scattering of purple petals at the floor near Iwaizumi’s bed.

“I used to love hyacinths,” she said, voice cracking, “but now I hate them.”

“Mom,” Iwaizumi murmured, chest aching at the sight of his mother’s puffy eyes, “please.”

She started crying again, collecting the flowers from the ground and throwing them forcefully in the trash can by Iwaizumi’s nightstand.

“It’s okay,” Iwaizumi said, knowing that it was anything but. “I’ll figure this out, mom. I’m stronger than a few flowers.”

“Hajime, my sweet, strong boy,” she sobbed, “you don’t deserve this. I always knew the whole soulmate thing was a load of bullshit. And now it’s killing you.” She shook her head. “When you figure out who this stupid soulmate of yours is, I’m going to hit them for putting you through so much pain.”

Iwaizumi snorted, imagining his mother hitting Oikawa upside the head like she used to do when they were younger. And then he stopped.

_Oikawa._

As if reading his thoughts, his mother handed the mug of tea to Iwaizumi, who accepted it gingerly. “Tooru-kun came earlier,” she told him. “He said you weren’t replying to his texts. I told him that you were very sick and would contact him as soon as you woke up.”

“Thanks, mom,” he muttered, trying to hold back the onset of flowers he could feel collecting in the pit of his diaphragm by drinking the rest of the tea.

Iwaizumi checked his phone as soon as his mother left his room.

_Trashykawa, five unread messages._

Iwaizumi coughed, hand closed over his mouth to muffle the sound, and from his throat comes out some petals.

 

> _[June 10th, 2:54PM] Trashykawa:_ omg stop ignoring me iwa-chan
> 
> _[June 10th, 6:38PM] Trashykawa:_ missed u at practice today. you aren’t slacking just because it’s your birthday, are you?
> 
> _[June 10th, 10:12PM] Trashykawa:_ i know you’re bad with technology but i didn’t think you were this bad!
> 
> _[June 11th, 2:20AM] Trashykawa:_ i’m sorry if i did anything. can you tell me what i did wrong?
> 
> _[June 11th, 7:05AM] Trashykawa:_ okay you’re seriously worrying me hajime what the fuck happened

 

Iwaizumi wanted to laugh. Really, he wanted to hate Oikawa so badly. His stupid antics, his desperate and constant need for attention, his brattiness, his childishness. Iwaizumi wanted to hate him for poisoning his body to the point where his limbs felt like lead and his muscles felt like jelly. And Iwaizumi wanted to hate him for being the reason why his mother won’t stop crying and why his father can’t look him in the face anymore.

Iwaizumi wanted to hate Oikawa for somehow, unbeknownst to him, making him fall in love with him so hard Iwaizumi had to die for it. But perhaps most of all, he wanted to hate him for loving him so much that somehow he was okay with that.

“What an asshole,” Iwaizumi muttered to himself, defeated.

 

> _[June 11th, 8:18PM] Me:_ I’m fine. Caught the stomach flu. Vomiting everywhere. Tell Coach I won’t be at practice for a few days.
> 
> _[June 11th, 8:18PM] Trashykawa:_ poor iwa-chan!! i’ll come over with my mom’s seafood soup!!

 

Iwaizumi blanched. He didn’t know how his body would react if he actually _saw_ Oikawa. It was bad enough when he _thought_ about him, Iwaizumi was fairly sure he would probably go into anaphylactic shock if he actually saw the person who was making his body rot from the inside out.

 

> _[June 11th, 8:20PM] Me:_ Why the fuck do you think seafood would make my stomach flu better
> 
> _[June 11th, 8:20PM] Me:_ Anyways don’t. Mom’s making me enough miso soup to last through a winter. Also I’m contagious and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to vomit vigorously all over the place.
> 
> _[June 11th, 8:21PM] Trashykawa:_ you’re such a barbarian
> 
> _[June 11th, 8:21PM] Trashykawa:_ let me know if u need me to get anything from the store for u!! get better soon, hanamaki isn’t a good ace!!

 

Iwaizumi smiled. And then vomited hyacinth buds.

 

-

 

_June 12th_

He called his doctor first thing in the morning.

“I know who my soulmate is,” Iwaizumi started. “But he’s my straight best friend from childhood and honestly this is so melodramatic and teenage but I’d rather die than ruin our friendship and worse, I’d rather die than make him feel responsible for my death when it’s clearly my fault for fucking up this whole soulmate thing. When he clearly doesn’t love me.”

The doctor exhaled loudly over the phone.

“And I’m starting to vomit buds instead of petals, and I looked up the hyacinth like you said, and apparently the buds are a lot more poisonous than the petals and I’m itchy everywhere and I’m not just vomiting blood and flowers, I’m vomiting in general, and I feel like shit. Super tired and I have the worst headaches.” Iwaizumi paused. “I have less than ten days, huh?”

“It does sound like the disease is spreading very fast,” the doctor replied gravely.

“Yeah, so, um.” Iwaizumi said. “I haven’t told my mom who it is, because she’s good friends with his mom, and she would totally tell her if she found out. So I’m just going to pretend that everything is fine and just, you know,” he took a minute to swallow the lump in his throat, “go without any complications.”

“I respect your decision,” his doctor said in a tone that clearly stated _you’re going to die for no reason but there’s nothing I can medically do about it._

“Do you have any idea how much time I have left?” Iwaizumi asked tentatively.

The doctor was silent for a few moments before answering. “I would guess about three days at most.”

_Three days. God. I only have three more days to live._

Suddenly, everything seemed a lot more real and impending, like the notion of seventy-two hours shocked the numbness out of his system. Iwaizumi started panicking. What the hell was he going to do in three days? He wanted to play volleyball with the guys one last time, at least, but he couldn’t see Oikawa, not now. His body probably couldn’t take it. He wanted to tell his mom that he loved her, and that he was sorry, and that he wanted to tell his dad the same.

But the doctor cut his thoughts off. “If you’re interested, the support group for terminally ill young adults is meeting later today at three in the afternoon. Would you like to attend?”

Iwaizumi sighed loudly, forcing himself to calm down with the heavy exhale. _This is your fault for being an idiot and falling in love with literally the worst person you could pick from._ “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go.”

_Terminally ill, huh?_

Iwaizumi laughed, and laughed, and then threw his phone across the room.

 

-

 

Later that day, Iwaizumi found himself in a hospital room, sitting in a circle amongst people he didn’t know. Some of them looked around his age, but there were a few older, and — Iwaizumi realized with horror — a few younger. There were a few people in wheelchairs, a few hooked up to IVs, a few balding. Iwaizumi quickly figured out that most of these people had cancer, and immediately felt awkward.

“Alright, everyone,” a woman he assumed to be the mediator of the support circle, “let’s go around and introduce ourselves.”

A few people said their names and ages: a sixteen year old girl named Sayoko, a fifteen year old boy named Touya, a twenty one year old man named Daisuke. When it was his turn, Iwaizumi stuttered, “My name is Iwaizumi Hajime… I just turned eighteen.”

They go through the rest of the attendees — eight in total, including Iwaizumi — before the mediator announced, “Alright everyone, as you may know, this is an open discussion between all of you. I will not be participating in this conversation, it is solely for your needs and support only.” Her face softens. “But I’d like to help you start the conversation off by asking how everyone is doing.”

“Horrible,” the man Iwaizumi remembered as Daisuke grumbled.

The group fell into an uncomfortable silence, Iwaizumi twitching awkwardly in his seat.

Well, he only had three days to live, apparently, so he might as well talk.

“Uh, so, I’m new,” he started, faltering when the attention of the entire room focused on him. “And I don’t even know if what I have is considered as a terminal illness. I’m sure I haven’t experienced nearly the pain and hardship as everyone here has gone through.”

Iwaizumi bowed his head before continuing. “I just turned eighteen and received my soulmark two days ago. But immediately after I started coughing up poisonous flowers. I went to my doctor and he told me that I not only have Hanahaki, but because my Hanahaki is for my soulmate, I’m going to die very, very soon. As in, three days soon. I’m going to die in three days. I actually don't even know if I have that long.”

He gulped, preparing to speak again, before a young girl that Iwaizumi didn’t know the name of spoke. “That’s terrible,” she murmurs. “but how can you have Hanahaki for your soulmate when you just got marked?”

“Yeah, um, so I did research on my soulmark, and it turns out it’s my straight best friend who literally fucks a new girl every single week,” Iwaizumi chuckled humorously. “So not only is my soulmate extremely unavailable, fate all of a sudden tells me I’m gay when I’ve never looked at a man that way in my life. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” the man named Daisuke growled, “It is funny.”

Iwaizumi froze.

“You have some nerve, coming in here,” Daisuke snapped. “Look, kid, I have terminal cancer. In three places, in fact. I’m in chemo but they’re telling me it’s not looking good and I have a few months left to live at best. I’ve tried _everything._ I’ve exhausted all of the money I was supposed to use to go to college and I’m running my parents dry. I’m going to stop treatment and accept my fate, because _I have nothing more to do._ And you,” Daisuke shook in anger, “you _know_ what you can do to potentially get out of this alive. And what are you doing? You’re here. Wasting your time, when you should be growing the pair of balls and getting your shit together and cure your pathetic disease of _unrequited love._ ”

The mediator frowned. “Daisuke—”

“No, he’s right,” Iwaizumi confessed quietly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect anyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daisuke scoffed. “And it’s your _soulmate._ Like, no matter how straight you think this guy is, you’re tied to him by fate. You have absolutely nothing to lose if you tell him how you feel, and your fucking _life_ to lose if you don’t.”

Iwaizumi shut his mouth.

“I agree,” Sayoko, the soft spoken girl in a wheelchair, said. “Iwaizumi-san, I understand how you might feel hopeless given the timestamp on your life, but you have so much more agency than us in terms of what you can do in order to save yourself.” She smiled softly at Iwaizumi, who was beginning to feel the heavy weight of shame and embarrassment settling into the pit of his stomach. “Who knows, it might not work. But it also might. And like us, you must take a gamble with your life if you want to keep it.”

“He’s not marked,” Iwaizumi stated in protest. “He’s my soulmate, but I don’t know if I’m his.”

“Is he younger than you?” Daisuke asked petulantly.

“Well, yes, but—”

“But nothing,” the man retorted, cutting him off. He adjusted his hat, which covered the bald skin on his head. “You’re a coward. Grow some fucking balls.”

“Daisuke,” the mediator scolded. Daisuke snarled, but turned away, apparently done speaking.

“We’re rooting for you, Iwaizumi-san,” Sayoko added.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replied, humiliation on his tongue, “thanks.”

 

-

 

But despite Daisuke’s biting words and Sayoko’s gentle suggestions, Iwaizumi didn’t talk to Oikawa. Night fell on June 12th and Iwaizumi lied on his bed, coughing up a concoction of blood and poisonous flowers over into the trash can next to his bed.

 _Coward,_ Iwaizumi thought. _I’m a coward. I’m a coward who’s going to die by June 15th._

Then, _Daisuke was right. I have nothing to lose._

So why couldn’t he tell him?

Iwaizumi heaved again, petals and buds fluttering down and out of his mouth and into the garbage like soft rain. At this point, the floor surrounding his bed was completely covered in a sea of mottled red and purple, blood and flora, something beautiful and tragic.

Oikawa filled up all the spaces in Iwaizumi’s life. Wherever Iwaizumi went and whatever he did, Oikawa was always somehow involved. In class, in volleyball, in family friendships and the time that they shared. To ruin that perfect balance of friendship would be completely throwing Iwaizumi’s life into the wind and to compromise everything he’s ever known.

Worse yet, Iwaizumi _knew_ that Oikawa wouldn’t be disgusted by his feelings. Iwaizumi could just imagine the crestfallen, guilt-ridden look on Oikawa’s features when Iwaizumi confessed. He would be hurt and angry, not at Iwaizumi but at himself, for letting Iwaizumi fall in love with him, like a slow-acting wound, bleeding Iwaizumi from the outside out. He would accept Iwaizumi’s feelings, but would be unable to return them, leading to Oikawa to fester in shame and guilt. And Iwaizumi would die anyway.

If he was going to die, there was no way in hell Iwaizumi would drag Oikawa like that down in him. And even _if_ Oikawa ended up being soulmarked for him when his birthday rolled around in July, there was no guarantee that Oikawa would return his feelings. Plenty of people didn’t meet and fall in love with their fated partner, and if Iwaizumi kept his mark a secret, Oikawa could live his life with that pretty, long-legged blonde girl that he wanted so much. Together, they could be a beautiful couple, all bright smiles and vibrancy, and they could make beautiful babies and have a beautiful family and Oikawa could teach his kids volleyball and —

 _So really, this is for the best_ , Iwaizumi told himself, vomiting so hard that his vision blurred.

 

-

 

_June 13th_

“Mom,” he blurted the next morning, too aware of the limited hours he had remaining, “I want to go outside.”

His mother jumped. “Did you finally figure out who your soulmate is?”

“What? No,” Iwaizumi lied, “I just want to get out of my room and go out with you.”

Her face fell, and guilt pooled in Iwaizumi’s gut. “You’re not well, sweetie,” his mother reminded him hesitantly. As if Iwaizumi forgot. “You should rest. Think a bit more about what to do.”

“I have time,” Iwaizumi lied again, “I can make a plan later. For now, I want to spend some time with you. We can go shopping, or to the park, or something,” he finished lamely.

His mother gave him a tired, sad smile. “Okay, Hajime.”

 

-

 

They opted for ice cream at the stand near the park closest to their house, matcha for his mother and plain milk for him. Strolling around the park, the two of them were in complete solemn silence until they sat at a bench, eating their sweets quietly.

“Do you really not know who it is?” his mother pleaded quietly _._

Iwaizumi gulped.

He really wasn’t planning on telling her, but after the support group session he had yesterday, he was having serious doubts about his plans. And he hated seeing his strong, kindhearted mother like this — completely wrecked and lost and vulnerable.

“I have an idea,” he admitted, avoiding her intent gaze.

“Is it Tooru-kun?”

Iwaizumi nearly dropped his ice cream at the mention of Oikawa’s name, and then starts coughing furiously into his free hand. After choking out a few familiar petals into a shaky palm, he turned to look at his mother, who was giving him a wistful and entirely pitiful look.

“Oh, Hajime,” his mother sighed, rubbing his back with her hand.

“H-How did you know?” Iwaizumi stuttered.

His mother smiled.

“You can’t hide anything from your mama,” she teased gently, but then sobered. “You and Tooru-kun have always been close, and you have never had any relationships. There was Mika-chan from your first year of high school, but…” She shrugged. “I figured if it was her, you would’ve known. So unless you've been seeing people behind my back, it could’ve only been Tooru-kun, really.”

Iwaizumi gaped, speechless.

“I’m not gay,” he said, dumbstruck, having nothing else to offer.

“That’s okay,” his mother replied gently, “You don’t have to be. But Tooru-kun’s your soulmate, and also responsible for your current state.”

Bashful, Iwaizumi looked down at his ice cream, which was beginning to melt under the relentless heat.

“He’ll understand, you know,” his mother lamented. “And I’m glad it’s Tooru-kun. At least we know that you have a good chance at making through all of this if it’s him. But you need to talk to him.”

Iwaizumi shook his head. “What do you mean, fighting chance? Oikawa’s straight.”

“And so are you,” his mother answered.

He didn’t have anything to say to that.

“Can I see it? The soulmark?”

Iwaizumi hesitated, but nodded, flipping his left wrist over so it caught the sunlight. The letters reflected the light, giving a brilliant shine to the gold script on his wrist.

His mother gasped. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “What does it mean?”

“It’s Greek,” he explained, rotating his forearm back and forth and watching as the letters gleamed and glowed warmly under the sun. “It says _philtatos._ It means beloved.” He gulped. “It refers to an ancient Greek myth of two soldiers who grew up together and battle for each other.”

“Hajime,” his mother breathed softly, sympathetic and stern all at once.

“I know, mom,” Iwaizumi sighed, resigning himself to his fate. “I know.”

 

-

 

When Iwaizumi went home, he flung himself onto his bed, hacked out some flowers, and started panicking about how he was going to go about confessing his feelings to Oikawa.

Though his mother's words did calm him to some extent, there was absolutely no way Oikawa would be able to return his feelings like she implied. Iwaizumi only realized his own feelings for only after he got soulmarked, and he didn't have the luxury of waiting for Oikawa's eighteenth birthday and trying to see if he loved Iwaizumi back.

At the same time, Iwaizumi thought of Daisuke and Sayoko and all the dying kids he met yesterday, and immediately felt ashamed.

Iwaizumi sighed and reached for his phone. But before he could start typing out a message, he started vomiting blood and flowers uncontrollably, scrambling to move towards the trash can as he watched the purple flower buds stained fall out of his mouth. Head dizzy and ears ringing, Iwaizumi clutched his bed frame for support, suddenly unable to keep himself steady on his own.

He retched again into the bin, wincing as another wave of petals and buds dropped out of his mouth. Iwaizumi panted, swaying uneasily as his muscles weakened and threatened collapse. He fell back into his bed, trying to regulate his breathing before—

“...Iwa-chan?”

_Oh no._

Iwaizumi's body suddenly seized as he felt another wave of flowers burst out from his lungs. This time, he didn't have the strength to hover over his garbage bin, so Iwaizumi coughs out countless purple hyacinths all over his sheets, surrounding him in a sea of bloody flowers.

“Fuck,” he managed to croak, before another onslaught of petals crawled up his throat and poured out of his mouth. Oikawa's presence made the fits so much worse than he ever could have expected. Much, much worse. Iwaizumi could feel himself getting poisoned.

“What the fuck, Hajime,” Oikawa hissed, rushing over to Iwaizumi's bedside. He feebly coughed some more at Oikawa's sudden invasion of privacy into his space. “You told me you had the _stomach flu, not_ _fucking_ _Hanahaki!_ ”

“I told you I was vomiting everywhere,” Iwaizumi groaned, closing his eyes to block out the sight of Oikawa in hopes that it will ease the intensity of the coughs. “Who the fuck let you into my house.”

“Your mother,” Oikawa snapped. “She also told me that you were suffocating on flower petals up here. What the fuck is wrong with you? When were you going to tell me about this girl you're in unrequited love with? I thought we were best friends!”

 _Girl,_ Iwaizumi thought, pained. He vomited some more flowers over himself, but focused on squeezing his eyes shut.

“Go away,” Iwaizumi growled, voice rough and broken from the constant strain of throwing up. “You're making it worse.”

“Fuck you! You weren't ever going to tell me, huh? If you did, we could've gotten you with her and you wouldn't be fucking _dying_ right now!”

 _This is it,_ Iwaizumi thought absentmindedly. _I'm going to die._ His head was pounding and he could feel his muscles quaking uncontrollably as he wheezed some more. Vaguely, he could feel blood trickling out of his mouth as he struggled to breathe through the hyacinth blooms that blocked his throat.

“Oh my fucking god,” he heard Oikawa panic, “oh my fucking god. _Iwaizumi-san!”_

Iwaizumi tried to focus on breathing steadily as best as he could, but it was hard when he was lying down, suffocating on his flower petals and his own blood. He heard crying and instinctively opened his eyes to see Oikawa hyperventilating over him.

“You're such an ugly crier,” Iwaizumi muttered dazedly. His brain wasn't really working right now. He wasn't quite sure it would ever work again.

“Who did this to you,” Oikawa sobbed. “Who was the fucking asshole who didn't love you back. I'll kill them. I swear I will.”

“Don't be an idiot,” Iwaizumi murmured. “You can't kill yourself.”

He reached out to cup Oikawa's cheek with a trembling hand, the letters on his wrist burning impossibly hot as he stroked his best friend's face unthinkingly, smiling at the fact that at least the last thing he ever saw was the face of the man that he loved so much it killed him.

Unable to stay conscious for any longer, Iwaizumi's hand dropped like a rock and his eyes shut closed, blacking out only after hearing Oikawa scream in agony.

 

-

 

(Iwaizumi had wondered once, _why Oikawa?_

It was no secret that Iwaizumi thought Oikawa Tooru was a shitty person with a shitty personality. He was ill-mannered, fake, extremely vindictive, and impossibly self-centered. He was the absolute worst.

But.

Oikawa Tooru shone with the sun. He was determined, confident, extremely passionate, and impossibly, irrevocably beautiful. He glowed and gleamed when the light hit him just right, and he filled all of Iwaizumi's cracks and made him whole, like liquid gold binding broken porcelain together.

 _φίλτατος._ My beloved. My dearest friend, my only soulmate. I would shake mountains and win wars for you.)

 

-

 

Iwaizumi found himself surrounded by blinding white, disoriented by the sheer brightness.

“Fuck, did I actually die?” Iwaizumi asked out loud, looking around and blinking in surprise when he spots Oikawa's signature mop of chocolate brown hair nestled at his side. Realizing that he was wearing the ugliest scrubs of his life and that he was hooked up to numerous IVs, Iwaizumi came to the conclusion that he was in a hospital and thus, was not dead.

He frowned. The doctor told him that he couldn't receive surgery for his Hanahaki because it would kill him. So the fact that he was alive only meant…

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa's sleeping form next to him. The man was sitting in a chair right by his hospital bed, but apparently had fallen asleep right on top of it, forearms acting as a makeshift pillow as he softly snored.

He must have been here for a while if he needed to take a nap.

Tentatively, Iwaizumi reached over to card his fingers through Oikawa's soft locks. As soon as he ran his hand through his hair, Oikawa stirred.

Iwaizumi cursed lowly. He forgot that Oikawa was the lightest sleeper ever to have lived.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled blearily. Then he jolted up, as if realizing what he just said. “ _Iwa-chan!”_

“Hey.”

“Don't 'hey' me, you fucking asshole!” Oikawa all but shrieked at him. Iwaizumi winced. “You scared the fucking shit out of me! And your poor parents!”

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi grunted. His throat was still sore from the constant abuse that the Hanahaki put it under. Speaking of which—

“Did you really have to almost die to tell me that you love me? Why couldn't you have like, I don't know, _called me?_ Or asked me to come over? I live three blocks away from you!”

“Wait,” Iwaizumi said.

“Your mom explained everything to me,” Oikawa ranted, apparently knowing exactly what Iwaizumi wanted answers to. “Honestly, fuck you. O ye of little faith. I can't believe you would rather die than admit that you love me. I also can't believe that you didn't fucking tell me we were soulmates! And I can't _also_ believe that you thought I wouldn't love you back.”

“Wait, what.”

“What the fuck, Hajime. That's a lot of shit to keep from your _soulmate,_ ” Oikawa hissed. “You really had to put everyone around you into cardiac arrest just because you didn't know how to fucking handle your emotions.”

“I thought you were straight,” Iwaizumi protested weakly. That was kind of rude. Iwaizumi was pretty good with his emotions for the most part. Throw him a bone, he was kind of busy dying these past few days.

“I've always been bi,” Oikawa scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And you're a fucking idiot.” His gaze softened. “I can't return your feelings if you don't tell me about them.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. “Okay. I thought _I_ was straight.”

“You literally dumped Satori Mika, cutest girl at Seijoh, after three weeks because you said something didn't feel right,” Oikawa deadpanned.

“She wasn't _that_ cute,” Iwaizumi muttered, to which Oikawa threw his hands up in the air out of exasperation.

“And he proves my exact point,” Oikawa sighed. He shifted over to lean closer to Iwaizumi, which was suddenly finding it very hard to breathe normally — and not because of any hyacinths this time. “Iwaizumi Hajime. If you ever do something like that again I will fucking kick your ass so hard you'll wish you had died today.”

Iwaizumi gulped, terrified.

“Also,” Oikawa took a shuddering breath, “if you couldn't guess already, you're alive because I love you too. Congratulations.”

“I'm forever in your debt,” Iwaizumi grumbled, but inside something was fluttering eagerly in the pit of his stomach.

“Damn right you are,” Oikawa whispered. His face was impossibly close now, his breath fanning over Iwaizumi's nose as he spoke.

When Oikawa kissed him, it felt like coming home — soft and warm and comforting like the hazy gold of filtered sunlight. Iwaizumi brought his left hand up to tangle his fingers into his soulmate's hair, and the mark on his wrist buzzed pleasantly as he did so. They stayed like that, pliant lips moving across each other, searching and exploring gently but thoroughly.

Oikawa drew back and Iwaizumi admired the flushed color on his cheeks and the mussed hair style.

“You still haven't told me you love me, you know,” he pointed out petulantly.

Iwaizumi stared at him. “I quite literally was prepared to die because I love you so much my body couldn't handle it.”

“Charming,” Oikawa flushed, “but a bit overdramatic. I give it a seven out of ten.”

“Fuck you,” Iwaizumi retorted easily. Then he remembered where he was. “Where’s the doc?”

As if on cue, a nurse came in to check in on him. “Good evening, Iwaizumi-san,” she responded easily. “How are you feeling?”

“Kind of tired,” he replied after taking a few moments to assess his wellbeing. “How long was I out for?”

“A few hours. Oikawa-san and your parents brought you immediately after you passed out. Luckily, it was only out of exhaustion and dehydration, not out of oxygen deprivation. You would have suffered brain damage if you had asphyxiated,” the nurse informed him calmly. “It's understandable how you weren't able to consume liquids during the few days you were affected by Hanahaki, but with the poison and constant vomiting, your body gave out very quickly.”

Iwaizumi blinked. “I… see.”

“We should be able to discharge you tomorrow morning; all we need to do is make sure you're sufficiently well-rested and hydrated.” She took some time to glance over at Oikawa before saying, “Make sure you stay well-rested and hydrated at home as well.”

After checking his vitals, the nurse left the room, leaving Oikawa and Iwaizumi alone.

“So,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to continue.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. “Are we dating?”

Oikawa snorted. “You're an idiot, Iwa-chan,” he murmured, moving in to kiss him again.

 

-

 

_June 15th_

After taking a day to rest, Iwaizumi returned to the steady rhythm of his day to day life.

It was a little hard to believe that just a few days ago he was contemplating how to best use the last few days of his existence. Just a few days ago, Iwaizumi was choking on hyacinths and blood and things left unsaid. Bracing himself for the worst.

Now, as Iwaizumi helped the rest of the team clean up the gym after a practice full of drills and conditioning, he took some time to be grateful for his doctor, Daisuke, Sayoko, his mother. He probably would he dead by now if it weren't for them. Iwaizumi made a note in his head to visit Daisuke and Sayoko in the hospital.

“Iwa-chan!”

And of course, he had to be grateful for his soulmate, too, for barging in at the last second and rescuing him from the brink of death. For barging into his life all those years ago in the little preschool classroom. For returning his feelings.

For being his _philtatos_ , through thick and thin, the wins and the losses, the happy times and the hard ones.

“Hey, dumbass,” Iwaizumi murmured, smiling as he took Oikawa's right hand in his left. “Let's go home.”

 

-

 

_epilogue: July 20_

“Still excited to get your soulmark?” Iwaizumi mumbled into Oikawa's shoulder as they sat in Oikawa's bedroom a few minutes before midnight. They were watching another cooking show; a favorite of Oikawa's, since he didn't know how to cook and liked to live vicariously through the chefs on the show.

“Mm, not really,” Oikawa hummed. “Not nearly as exciting when you know who it'll be.”

“So you don't get excited at the thought of me? Rude.”

11:58.

“Aww, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cooed. “No need to get so prickly. You know my body is yours.”

He winked at him and Iwaizumi belched mockingly.

To be honest, Iwaizumi was still a bit nervous about the whole thing. Though he no longer had his reservations about Oikawa's sexuality (he was well acquainted with his, ah, _preferences_ at this point) he still was extremely wary of the soulmate selection process. After all, it nearly killed him less than a month ago.

11:59.

“Don't be such a worrywart,” Oikawa chided, knowing exactly what Iwaizumi was thinking. “It'll be fine. My skin gets prickly around you and my heart beats faster and everything. And your wrist tingles around me. We'll be fine.”

His soulmate grabbed a hold of Iwaizumi’s left wrist and traced the Greek with his finger softly, the sensation making Iwaizumi shiver.

“ _P_ _hiltatos,_ ” Oikawa breathed.

“That's you,” Iwaizumi whispered.

12:00.

Anxiously, Iwaizumi waited as Oikawa closed his eyes and inhaled. Suddenly, a familiar golden light wrapped around his boyfriend's torso, snaking around him until wrapping tightly around Oikawa's right arm. The light carved foreign letters into Oikawa's wrist and Iwaizumi let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

As the light faded away, Iwaizumi looked over at the new Greek lettering on Oikawa's skin, pulling up the Wikipedia article he had read about Achilles and Patroclus a month back.

“Does it match?”

Iwaizumi laughed. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “ _ἑταῖρος. Hetairos._ Partner.”

“Partner,” Oikawa grinned. “That's you.”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agreed, leaning in. “Happy birthday, soulmate.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [ tumblr! ](http://iwaizumings.tumblr.com/)


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